


Passion

by livkatty



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: F/M, Fluff and Angst, Friends to Lovers, I'm Bad At Tagging, Mentions of Death, Mutual Pining, Reader has been orphaned so if that bothers anyone, Reader is a figure skater, Reader-Insert, Yakov and Lilia are Reader's grandparents, figure skating
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-20
Updated: 2019-01-06
Packaged: 2019-03-21 14:55:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,179
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13743327
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/livkatty/pseuds/livkatty
Summary: Being the grandchild of Yakov Feltsman and rinkmate of Viktor Nikiforov gives you no room for error; you strive for nothing less than perfection, and it is in this sense that you and Yuri Plisetsky are similar. The two of you have watched one another's careers take off, skills bloom, and identities form, so it is only natural that your senior careers kick off at the same time. The new season brings new experiences and emotions, and with them new feelings for one another that you are having trouble understanding.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first work I've ever posted on AO3, so I apologize if it's awful! I do appreciate constructive criticism, though c: Thank you for reading!  
> Also, this will be cross-posted on Quotev under the profile quotev.com/livkatty . If it is anywhere else, it has been stolen.  
> Please correct me if I write anything in another language that is translated incorrectly c': I'll be using Romanized forms of words if their alphabets are different.

The rink is dark, save for the few lights directly above the rink that turned on when you walked in. Your phone lies on the wall of the rink near the entrance, emitting upbeat Korean pop music while you skate on the ice. 

The last you checked, the time was around midnight, which means that it is probably around one o’clock in the morning. Surely Yakov will kill you if he ever finds out the frequency with which you spend late nights practicing instead of sleeping; then again, that means that Vikor will be six feet under the ground, as well.

He stands on the edge of the rink near your phone, watching as you pick up speed and position your feet in preparation for a triple axel. The jump has been a particular focus of concern for you lately; you are only able to complete it now because you learned how to successfully land it before you turned twelve (against Yakov’s wishes, obviously), but it is still difficult. While you have landed the jump multiple times in practice, you have yet to land it in competition, and seeing as you are making your senior debut in the coming season, you want to prove that you are more prepared than the media gives you credit for.

You are sixteen, going on seventeen—almost an entire year older than your rinkmate, Yuri Plisetsky—but despite the fact that the both of you won your previous Junior World Championships and Junior Grand Prix Finals, he is much better received as he begins his senior career than you are. Of course, you bear no resentment toward the perpetually angry boy for his fans’ influence on the internet. The judges do not seem to have it out for you, at least.

Even so, you are attempting to build a reputation for yourself because, seeing as you skate on the same ice as Viktor Nikiforov almost every day, you have little other choice.

As you near the wall, you keep your feet in check before vaulting over your left toe pick, bringing in your arms and crossing your legs so that you are as tight as you can possibly be as you gain height into the air. Your mind barely registers the rotations as they all happen within a second, and soon enough you have landed, your arms spread and your leg extended behind you. A sigh of relief floods through your body as you turn to look at Viktor. He sends you a bright smile, skating over to meet you in the middle of the rink.

“That was almost perfect! The landing was a little shaky, but it will get better with time,” he praises, patting your head like one would a puppy that had done a trick. A grin spreads across your face, and you skate away in favor of gliding around him in circles.

“I want to be able to do one with my arms in the air,” you declare, and Viktor blanches, staring at you as if you grew a second head.

“You do realize how hard that is, even for me?” he asks you. You shrug, turning away from him and skating to the exit. Your legs are tired, and you have done enough practicing for one night.

“Then we can practice it together. Get you psyched up to be the first person to land a quadruple axel,” you suggest, turning around and wiggling your eyebrows at the older man as you step out of the rink. He only chuckles at the challenge and makes to follow you out of the rink.

“If you can keep up with me, that is,” he teases, and you stick your tongue out at him while you unlace your skates.

“Hey, you’re the lucky one! You weren’t cursed with a chest or hips,” you pout. For girls, jumps are more difficult to complete, both due to the fact that boys gain more muscle in the shoulder area as they grow older, and the fact that girls gain more weight in the chest and hips. The jumps girls learn before puberty are usually what they are left to work with, and learning anything else is immensely difficult. That fails to stop you from trying, though, and the same can be said for your competitors.

Viktor chuckles again, choosing not to argue on that point. The two of you finish packing your things and exit the facility, turning off the lights and locking up to make it seem as if you were never there. The two of you walk toward your home in silence, as is customary for the two of you. The blonde has always been somewhat of an elder brother figure towards you, and he still refuses to let you walk home alone after your late night practices.

A thought hits you suddenly, and you frown as you turn your head up to look at Viktor. “What are you planning on? For this next season, I mean.”

He does not respond immediately, his lips curled into a frown similar to yours as he seems to ponder over the same question. “I’m. . . really not sure, actually. I’m on a complete lack of motivation at this point.”

“You’ll have to figure something out soon, then. Dedushka[1] is starting to get irritated as it is,” you remark, though there is a light lilt to your voice because you know that Viktor has never really been phased by Yakov, anyway.

Soon enough, the large house that you inhabit comes into view, and you turn to Viktor to give him one last hug before turning in for the night. “Don’t get lost on your way home, Vitya,” you joke. He feigns shock and offense, placing one hand over his chest and staring at you with his mouth wide open.

“You think so little of me?” he pouts, his eyes twinkling even through the forlorn expression he adorns. You roll your eyes in response.

“Good night,” you snicker, turning and scampering up the steps to your home before the older skater can get another word in. You pull your keys out of your pocket and slip the correct one into the lock, quietly so as not to wake anyone in the premises. You have snuck into and out of the house so many times that doing so quickly is not difficult. Once the door is shut behind you, your form slumps with exhaustion. You want nothing more than to go right to bed, but you have been skating and working out for the better part of eighteen hours and, needless to say, you smell unpleasant and need a shower.

You are so exhausted that the next twenty minutes fail to register properly in your mind, letting your procedural memory take over just long enough to get clean. The scalding water relaxes you, and by the time you are clad in a bathrobe and walking to your room, you really do feel as if you might pass out on the floor. You almost do, actually—if it had not been for Yuri walking right up to you and preventing you from going any further, therefore startling you out of your dazed state, you might have fallen asleep standing up.

“What the hell are you doing up so late?” he questions. His arms are crossed, and he is looking at you like you just stole something from him. Even though you are a year older than him, he stands a few inches taller and you must tilt your head to look him in the eye. He dons sweats and a baggy t-shirt, you note, and his cat prods up to the two of you a moment later. She rubs against Yuri’s leg before walking to you and touching your shin with her paw.

Unable to resist her magical charms, you pick the cat up and stroke her fur, keeping your attention on her while you reply to Yuri. “I could be asking you the same question, Yura,” you say. You lift your head to look at him and tilt your head in the process.

Watching him bristle and blush at the pet name never gets old. “You were being so damned loud in the shower that you woke me up. Why didn’t you just take a shower when you went to bed?” he grumbled, turning back around and going into your room so that he can continue to berate you.

“I never went to bed, smart one,” you point out as you follow him in, gesturing to your untouched bed and the duffel bag lying open on the floor. “I went out.”

“Wait, out?” he asks, his interest piqued. He takes Puma out of your arms so that he can flop onto your bed and cuddle her. He looks at you curiously, though it is a genuine curiousness that fails to match with what he shows to strangers—or most people, really. Having known the boy for several years, it would be an understatement to call the two of you friends. “With who?”

“Vitya,” you reply, searching your nightstand drawer for a ponytail holder to put your hair back with. As you are twisting your hair into the elastic, you glance at him out of the corner of your eye and nearly burst out laughing at the horrified look on his face. He has stopped petting Puma in favor of holding her like a lifeline to his chest, and you swear some of his hair is standing on end, similar to a cat.

“Excuse me? You and—”

“Good god, Yura, no! He’s like, what, eleven years older than me? That’s disgusting,” you snicker, snatching a pillow off of your bed and throwing it at his head. He dodges it, used to receiving pillow attacks from you if you are given the opportunity. “We were at the rink, you dumbass. He was helping me practice,” you explain. The color returns to the blonde’s face, but it returns full force so that his face is red as his irritation and embarrassment become clear. You hop onto the head of the bed, untucking the first few inches of covers and slipping under them. Visibly relaxing as the soft mattress and comforter cradle your tired muscles, you go into further detail. “Dedushka refuses to help me with my triple axels because he thinks I’ll hurt myself, so—”

“So what?” he interrupts. You pause, glancing at him again, only to find that he has taken on a rather strange expression. To your surprise, he looks almost jealous. Even though his eyes are averted from yours in favor of staring at the ceiling, the troubled look on his face is more than obvious.

“What do you mean, ‘So what’? He’s amazing at triple axels and he’s like an older brother to me. Why wouldn’t I ask him for help?”

This time, Yuri fails to respond, but to you, having known him for years on end, he is an open book. His reluctance to admit it is quite obvious, but you have no doubt in your mind that he is upset over the fact that you failed to ask him for help, instead. Sighing, you bury yourself further under the covers and nudge him with your feet. “Chill out, Yura. I’ll let you know next time we go so you can come with us, okay?”

“Whatever,” he grumbles. He rolls off of your bed, somehow managing to keep Puma held upright in the process, and stands up to look at you; he looks slightly relieved despite the tone of his voice, and he continues, “I feel no pity for your grumpy ass in the morning.”

“Good night, Yura,” you chuckle, rolling over so that you are facing away from him. “Turn the light off and close the door, please.”

It is not until a few moments later that your ears pick up Yuri’s footsteps, but soon enough the light ceases to assault your tired eyes, and you fall into a deep, dreamless sleep.

~

Katsuki Yuuri is something else.

Even Yuri has taken a break from practicing in favor of watching the video that has gone viral in a matter of hours (you are only aware of this because he is furiously texting you about how stupid the Japanese Yuuri is). You, on the other hand, have been watching it on repeat every chance you get, and Emil is beginning to get annoyed because of it.

“I think you’ve been watching that video more times than you’ve done pirouettes today,” he chastises.

Despite your claim that Viktor is like an elder brother to you, Emil is your actual big brother—even if only by a few minutes. Most people have no idea that the two of you are even related, seeing as he takes mostly after the appearance of your mother and you your father, so when the cat is let out of the bag that the two of you are twins, people tend to think you are lying until you provide proof.

“I can’t help it! Do you know how many times I’ve watched Viktor practice and perform this program? To be able to master it like Yuuri has in a matter of months is insane,” you gush, continuing to stare at your phone in a feeble attempt at finding a mistake in the routine. Honestly, watching Yuuri skate the program is more enticing than watching Viktor skate it, if only for the reason that Yuuri is younger and fits the concept better.

Emil rolls his eyes at you, but moves to sit next to you on the floor, anyway. Lilia would surely kill the two of you if she saw you slacking off, but she has been sick for the past week and, therefore, is absent from the studio. “He can’t be that good.”

“He’s that good,” you contradict, shoving your phone into your brother’s hand while you stand up. As much as you hate to admit it, he had a point when he mentioned your lack of practice. You have not even stretched properly, you realize, so you begin your routine stretches before you stretch your leg and contort your body into a hyper-extended Biellmann position. 

Emil looks up at you once more, grimacing once he sees the extreme position you are in. “I’ll never be able to understand how you can do that without breaking in half.”

You shrug (as best as you are able to) and hold the position for a good five seconds before relaxing. “It’s not that hard once you practice it enough. Yura can get close to that and he’s not even a girl,” you point out. Emil shakes his head and shudders as if the very thought hurts.

“That’s because Yuri is some sort of superhuman. I’m glad I don’t skate.” Emil never took to skating like you did when the two of you were younger, even with Yakov pushing him to be as good as you were. Instead, he followed in Lilia’s footsteps and became a professional ballet dancer. Which was just as well, because he and Yuri get along horribly, so them being rinkmates would be a disaster for everyone involved.

The music coming from the video on your phone cuts off, and Emil squints his eyes at the interruption before beckoning you over. Taking your phone back, you open the text message that Viktor has sent you, only to pause upon reading it.

Vitya, 15:52: Would it be weird if I asked you to come to Japan with me?

You, 15:53: thats not only weird but dedushka’s gonna have a hissy fit. why are you going to japan and why am i coming?

You, 15:54: . . .is it because of yuuri? that still doesnt explain why you need me there ew

Vitya, 15:54: Smart girl :D And it’s because you can speak Japanese, of course! Didn’t you take that course a few years ago?

Vitya, 15:55: . . . And I get lost when I’m alone in new places. You know this ;( Even if I end up staying for a while, you’re free to go back within a couple of weeks if you want!

You, 15:56: okay okay lol let me call babushka and let her know. i’ll meet you in the park by the airport in four hours. and please dont tell yura because i think he might actually kill me ;;;

You pocket your phone as soon as you notice Emil trying to peek over your shoulder to read the messages, much to his disappointment. “What did Viktor want?” he asks, tilting his head much like a puppy would. You shrug, going to gather your duffel bag and head to the changing room.

“Nothing much. I’m gonna head home early today. Not feeling it. Tell Babushka[2] I said hi when you get home!” you grin, waving at your brother before disappearing in the girl’s changing room.

~

Five hours and one livid Yakov later, you and Viktor are boarding a plane that is set to be en route to Japan.


	2. Chapter II

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm really not sure how to explain the long absence. I don't really have much of an excuse for not saying anything about it. I have been working on this chapter (somewhat minimally) for the past eleven months? I'm not nearly as happy with it as I'd like to be, but hopefully I'll be able to write better in the future. I apologize if it's not what you were expecting.  
> Shortly after I published this story, the spring semester caught up to me and, along with the fact that I started working 30 hours a week in addition to high school, I had little time for anything other than school and work. An immediate family member passed in May, and I was working 40 hours a week over the summer. As such, I've only recently found any inspiration to write again, which is why you might see another story or two pop up soon. The spring semester of my junior year of high school is about to hit me like a train, but when summer rolls around I will be free, without a job, and hopefully I'll be able to put out much more than I have been. That being said, this story has not been totally abandoned, and I plan to try to work on it in the coming months, so please just bear with me. Thank you to those who are still here despite the hiatus. I appreciate you more than you know.  
> Again, this chapter isn't that great in my opinion, but I'll try to do better for you guys. :)

Not even a week into your stay in Japan has Viktor turned the community upside-down.

The moment the two of you stepped foot into the airport, people began to gossip, and you are not surprised that rumors concerning your presence have made their way across the world already. Theories have surfaced that accurately predict Viktor’s intentions of becoming Yuuri’s coach, but for the most part, everyone is confused as to why you are there.

Luckily, Yakov has made a point to reporters that you will return in a few weeks time (though he is still angry, you expect he will get over it). Yuuri’s family has welcomed yourself and Viktor warmly into their home, and Japan’s peaceful atmosphere calms your nerves—for the most part, at least.

Out of all of the people you neglected to inform of your leave, Yuri is the most sullen (despite the fact that you texted him shortly before boarding the plane). You suppose that, considering the conversation the night before, you should not be surprised, but you find it difficult to not be annoyed when he outright refuses to return your calls or texts. Petty Yuri will be petty, you’ve accepted, and you know him well enough to realize he is angry with Viktor, as well.

Even so, the latter seems to care more about getting to know Yuuri than worry about anyone else, so much so that you are questioning how much the two skaters’ attraction toward one another is influencing their time spent together rather than the actual goal of coaching. Certainly, Viktor has not been asking to sleep with Yuuri purely for the coaching aspect, but you have kept your mouth shut because his love life is none of your business.

Japan’s scenery has proven to be captivating; however, your main concern is polishing your skating to make sure that you are not lagging when you return to St. Petersburg. Most of your time has been spent at the ice rink, where you made quick friends with Yuuko upon meeting. She and her triplets are outside at the moment in an attempt to keep reporters from entering the premises.

Viktor has once again been attempting to help improve the quality of your triple axels. Although your landing ratio is becoming better, your ability to stay steady the entire time is nowhere near as perfect as that of your senior.

After your fifth attempt in which you take a fall, he suggests that you take a break while he works on choreography. A part of you wonders if he already has ideas for Yuuri’s programs, but as you lean against the wall and sip from your water bottle, you are shocked to watch him go through choreography that he had been practicing back in St. Petersburg. In fact, it shocks you so much that, as you watch him, you do not even register the presence of your Yuri with the Japanese Yuuri until the former yells at Viktor. Although the surprise of his sudden presence is enough to make your mouth fall open, little space remains for you to dwell in the moment given the current conversation.

Viktor turns to look at your angry friend, smiling as if all is right in the world. “Yuri, you’re here! I’m surprised Yakov let you come,” he states, but both of you know that Yuri probably came against advice, much like yourself. “What do you want?” While his tone is lighthearted, you have no doubt in your mind that he is concerned as to why Yuri followed the two of you.

At this point, Yuri is so frustrated that you can actually hear his growls, and the struggle you are going through not to laugh is made even worse as Viktor says, “Judging from that look, I’m guessing I forgot some promise I made.”

“It’s like you’re asking for him to punch you, Vitya,” you snicker, pushing off of the wall and skating toward the trio. Upon glancing at him and his half-shocked, half-tumultuous expression, Yuri has obviously been too concentrated on Viktor to notice you until now. His gaze averts from your own almost too quickly, confirming your suspicions about him being angry at you.

Deciding that your legs will give out if you try another axel, you glide past Viktor and toward the exit of the rink, though you make sure to listen in on the conversation. An infuriated Yuri is more than common to Viktor and yourself, but you are unsure if you have ever witnessed him so angry that he flew almost five thousand miles just to confront the source.

When you exit the rink and slip the guards onto the blades of your skates, Viktor follows closely behind. However, instead of sitting on a bench near the other two to unlace his skates with you, he walks straight towards Yuuri and Yuri in order to give the latter his undivided attention.

“Remember a couple of years ago, when Yakov chewed me out for attempting a quad in competition?” Yuri asks. A look of realization begins to dawn on Viktors face as he continues, “You said that you would coach me if I won the Junior World Championship without any quads. And I did. What happened to your end of the deal?”

This is news to you. Your hand pauses after zipping your duffel bag up, and you look at Yuri for an explanation as to why this is the first time that you are hearing of the promise, but now he seems to be intentionally avoiding your gaze while he sulks.

Viktor, on the other hand, seems anything but tense and even laughs as he apologizes. “Sorry, sorry! I totally forgot. But you knew I was the forgetful type, right?”

“Yeah, I’m painfully aware of that,” Yuri groans. You stand up and sling your duffel bag over your shoulder, observing the three as the topic of Viktor returning to Russia surfaces.

For once, you are unsure as to whether you should scold Yuri or back him up. Yes, his behavior toward Yuuri has been nothing less than rude, but a promise is not something to take lightly if it involves something as serious as this.

Fortunately, Viktor comes up with a compromise that seems to curb Yuri’s temper for the time being, but the triplets’ plans for a huge event for the competition have you dreading the day already.

~

“If you’re going to be mad at me, at least yell at me or something like you did with Vitya instead of ignoring me, Yura. It’s starting to get annoying.”

The two of you sit across from one another at the table, both drowsy because of the fantastic food. Viktor has followed Yuuri to the ice rink, leaving Yuri and yourself alone (save for Yuuri’s family hustling and bustling about the inn), but he still refuses to speak to you or make eye-contact, or even acknowledge your presence. Currently, his head lies on top of his arms and his eyes drift sluggishly, taking in the view of the area.

After a few moments of yet another lack of response, you sigh and lean your head on your hands, examining your friend. “I’ve said sorry, like, ten times already. I was going to fly back to St. Petersburg, anyway, so—”

“Would you shut up, woman? You’re giving me a headache,” he interrupts, finally lifting his head to glare at you. Anyone else (save for Viktor, Nikolai, and those back in St. Petersburg) might have been put off by Yuri’s harshness, but all you do is grin widely and clasp your hands together. Realizing his mistake, Yuri falters for a moment, giving you time to put a word in.

“There you are! Quit being an ass,” you urge.

He clicks his tongue at you, replying, “You’re the one that flew halfway around the world without even so much as a heads up ahead of time.” He is pouting now—well, what can be considered pouting, in his case. In reality, it is more like him pulling off a somewhat disgusted look while he stares at you to make you uncomfortable.

You are having none of it. “Are you my father? No. My boyfriend, maybe?”

Yuri stops at that, his face rapidly taking on a hue so bright that you wonder why he has not exploded yet. On the other hand, you can barely contain your laughter at his flustered state, which soon fades to a pink dusting on his cheeks after he realizes that you are messing with him, like always. “That’s not the point, you idiot,” he retorts. “You don’t trust me.”

Ah. “Of course I trust you, Yura,” you reassure, taking on a more serious tone. “And I really am sorry for flying out here without telling you. But now, not only is Yakov going to throw my ass six feet under, he'll throw yours down with me. That's mainly why I didn't tell you. That, and I knew how you'd react."

"I don't care," he grumbles, though his demeanor has become more relaxed. "It's not like I'm the one that came here just to slack off for a few weeks," he points out, but you can tell that he is only joking.

"It's not like we ever get a break, anyway," you grumble. Since your life mainly revolves around ice skating, there are days when you have no time for school, even, and Yakov refuses to let you relax even during the period between World Championships and the beginning of the season. Coming to Japan has significantly improved your mental state and reduced your exhaustion, though you know that you will be worked twice as hard as usual when you return to St. Petersburg. A senior debut is not something to take lightly.

Yuri glances at you finally; not a glare, but a real, familiar glance that he has denied you ever since he set foot into the skating rink earlier in the day. “We get plenty of breaks. I mean, yeah, we get worked hard, but Yakov isn’t always a slave-driver. You’re just too hard on yourself, so chill the hell out, dummy.”

“Who are you calling dummy?” you question, your eyebrows shooting sky-high in your offense.

“You, obviously,” he deadpans, leaning his head on his hand and shooting you a lazy smirk. “Flying to Japan just to run away from Yakov has me thinking you’re as airheaded as Viktor, you know.”

You wrinkle your nose at him, countering, “Didn’t you fly here just to yell at Viktor? That’s a lot more irrational if you ask me—”

Yuri wastes no time to interrupt your retort and throws one of the pillows on the floor straight at your face, which sends you falling hard onto your back. “Ow! Do you want an ass-kicking, you punk?!”

“You make it sound like you actually have a chance of beating me,” he muses in a thoughtful manner, and before he can get another word in you have launched yourself across the table. Shrieking in a higher pitch than you thought possible for him, Yuri falls backwards, and though he attempts to gain some momentum against you, you have him pinned down in a matter of moments.

The blonde glares up at you, but the look is half-hearted at best as his face takes on a rosy shade yet again. You open your mouth to tease him further, but yelp as you are suddenly flipped over and pinned to the floor. Despite your vulnerable position, you still smirk up at him as he holds your wrists tightly in both of his hands and straddles your waist, rendering you immobile. “I’m way stronger than you; you just surprised me,” he defends himself, scowling down at you and tightening his grip—not tight enough to hurt at all, but firm enough to keep you from struggling.

“Okay, so what, Mr. Muscle Man?” you ask. You go to lean your head up to get in his face and irritate him further, but before you can, the door slides open and Yuri is scrambling off of you faster than should be humanly possible.

“. . .Is everything okay in here?” Yuuri asks, walking into the room as Viktor trails along behind him. Yuri lays face-down about five feet away from you, and you are simply sprawled out on your back and giggling so hard you find it difficult to breathe.

Yuri lifts his head to glare daggers at you, but this only amuses you further, and you cannot muster the willpower to answer Yuuri’s question in time for he and Viktor to creep out of the room and toward the bedrooms.

Sighing, Yuri pushes himself up into a standing position and walks over in order to loom over you, but this does nothing in terms of intimidation. After you have finally calmed down, you push yourself up onto your elbows and hold your hand out to him. “Help me up?”

He regards you then, placing his hands on his hips and pretending to ponder over whether or not you are worth helping up, but one pout from you has him sighing and pulling you off of the ground. “You’re so annoying,” he grumbles, but fails to wipe the smile from your face. Letting go of your hand after a moment, he brushes your shoulders off despite the fact that the floor is immaculate and steps back to regard you.

“So. . . Are we good?” you ask, offering the boy a warm smile. He stares at you for a moment, huffs, and replies,

“I guess.”

Your smile grows significantly wider, and without skipping a beat, you wrap your arms around Yuri and bring him in for a tight embrace. “Good. I missed you, Yura,” you say, trying and failing to stifle your giggles as he loses his composure at the close contact.

Soon enough, the blonde ceases his spluttering, and he hesitantly wraps his arms around you, as well.

“I-I. . . missed you too, you dummy.”


End file.
